Shockwave
by TinkerBella7
Summary: My very first FLASHPOINT story. I started watching about 2 months ago and have many eps to go but I am a Sam girl and a WHUMP and ANGST whore so...there's that. No warnings. No real swearing. Just Sam Whump and liberties taken with the ep to make Sam suffer. Muahahahahahahaha!


My very first FLASHPOINT story. I started watching about 2 months ago and have many eps to go but I am a Sam girl and a WHUMP and ANGST whore so...there's that. No warnings. No real swearing. Just Sam Whump and liberties taken with the ep to make Sam suffer. Muahahahahahahaha!

**SHOCKWAVE**

"Is Ronia going to be okay?" Sam asked, as Steve flashed a penlight in his eyes, checking for damage after the blast that had knocked Sam unconscious.

"She is." Steve turned off the light and patted Sam on the shoulder. "Nice work down there. You saved her life."

Sam shrugged off the praise. "You gave the orders, I simply followed them. Like all good soldiers do."

Steve chuckled. "Yeah...well you made a good impression on Ronia. She couldn't stop talking about you."

"I'm glad I could help." Sam made to stand up but a hand on his shoulder pressed him back down. He frowned at Steve. I'm good to go, right?"

"Only place you're going is the hospital to get checked out," Steve replied. "I think you have a concussion."

Sam shook his head, then hid a wince as everything went gray for a moment, pain lancing through the base of his skull. He was pretty sure Steve hadn't noticed though, since he had turned away. So Sam smirked as the EMS turned back to face him. "I'm fine. I have a hard head."

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, so I've heard. But you're still going."

"Going where?" It was Jules who asked the question, as she came up next to Sam.

"To the hospital, to get checked out for a possible concussion." Steve was answering Jules, but he was glaring at Sam.

Sam glared back. "Not." He stood up, intending to slip away, only his body turned traitor. His knees buckled, his vision turned blurry, and he was only dimly aware of Jules voice calling his name as strong hands gripped his shoulders. Smaller hands wrapped around his back and Sam hissed as pain rippled through his ribcage. And then there was nausea and the next thing Sam knew he was pushing away before twisting his body and falling to his hands and knees as his stomach emptied it's contents on the sidewalk. Voices floated over him along with the touch of hands on his face. Sam closed his eyes as a cool cloth slid over his hot face, then he was being lifted and moved and there was a moment of vertigo before he was settled on his back, half sitting up, and he blinked hard until the inside of the ambulance filled his vision.

"Take a sip and spit." Jules voice was in his ear, her hand on his face even as he felt the touch of a bottle against his lips.

Sam took a grateful sip, swished it then spit into the emesis basin that appeared below his chin. "Thanks," he croaked.

Steve was on his other side, checking his pulse before a blood pressure cuff wrapped around Sam's arm.

He started to shrug him off only to be told to, "Behave, Sam." He went still and frowned. Where the hell did Sarge come from? He hadn't been there a minute ago, had he? Sam fervently prayed the man hadn't been there to see him puking. "I'm okay," Sam stated, the response coming out automatically.

"Not this time, Sam," Greg replied, patting his knee. "You're going to do as your told and take a nice ride to the hospital. We'll meet you there."

Sam did not like that plan. Not one bit. He used his free hand to push himself upright, only to hiss in pain as that damn agony wrapped around his ribs again. He didn't remember them hurting before. Not while he'd been down in the rubble with Raf and Spike. His head decided to get in on the fun again too, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Oh, and HELLO nausea. There you are. Cool fingertips brushed over his forehead even as Sam found himself reclining back again.

"Take it easy, Sam," Jules whispered, almost in his ear. And he was grateful for her soft tone even as he tried to slow his breathing to control the pain and nausea.

"We need to go," Steve was saying. Then Greg was stepping out and the ambulance started moving.

"Crap," Sam mumbled, knowing he was trapped. But that didn't mean they could make him stay at the hospital. The moment they were done poking and prodding and telling him what he already knew - that he had a hard head and to get some rest - Sam was so out of there. Only, somehow, he zoned out or something because the next thing he knew he was in an exam room and he had no idea how he'd gotten there. He tried asking but his voice was barely a croak of sound. Then a doctor was there, leaning over him, telling him he was going to be fine. Which was stupid, because Sam knew he was fine. They just needed to stop fussing and let him go home.

To that end, Sam made to sit up, only to cry out as pain erupted in flares throughout his body, from head to toe. He felt hands on his shoulders, pressing him down, voices telling him to relax. Darkness swirled around him and he, gratefully, let it drag him down to black.

"...should be able to go home in two days. If he behaves..."

Sam heard a familiar voice, Sarge's voice, from somewhere to his left. He just needed to open his eyes to be sure, but that seemed like an awful lot of work.

"I think he's waking up." That was Jules's voice. Sam was positive of that. And it sounded really close.

So Sam made the Herculean effort to pry his eyelids open and he was rewarded by Jules pretty face hovering over him. She looked worried, but she was smiling. "H-hey..." Sam croaked out, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

Jules shushed him. "Don't talk. I'll get you some water." And suddenly a straw touched his lips and Sam took a few, blissful, sips of the cool liquid. "Better?" Jules asked, anxiously.

"Better." It hurt his head to talk, but at least he sounded more normal this time.

"How are you feeling, buddy?" Greg was standing next to Jules now and he also looked worried.

Deciding it would hurt to nod, since his head already felt heavy and aching, Sam settled for whispering, "Good." Which wasn't entirely true, but wasn't exactly a lie either. He remembered many times when he'd felt much worse than now.

Sarge didn't look convinced, but he didn't call him on it either. "I think we'll let the doctor make that call. But you're going to be fine."

"What happened?" Sam asked, because he really was fuzzy on the details. Why did Sarge and Jules look so damn worried?

"What do you remember?" Sarge countered.

Sam closed his eyes and thought back. "Um...the explosion. We got everyone out. Steve checked me out because I got knocked out then...everything is a bit fuzzy after that." Sam vaguely remembered throwing up but didn't figure that needed a mention. He opened his eyes and stared at Sarge. "I guess I made a trip to the hospital. How long have I been here?"

"Twenty-four hours, just about," Sarge replied.

"What?" Sam just about came up off the bed, probably would have hit the floor, but Sarge and Jules were pushing him back against the pillows, holding him even as he tried to curl into himself against the sudden influx of pain. It felt like it was everywhere. Spiking through his skull, radiating across his ribcage. And his good ,nausea, was making another appearance.

For a moment everything narrowed down to pain and nausea and voices in the background. Then he got a reprieve as the pain trickled away and he felt like he could breathe again without wanting to throw up. Hands were still on him, voices chattering beside him, but Sam kept his eyes closed, focusing only on breathing in and out. Sniper breathing. He didn't know, or care, how much time passed. Eventually he opened his eyes to see a room full of anxious faces.

Ed was at the foot of the bed. "You back with us, Sam?"

"Yeah..." he was careful to whisper this time. He could feel cold sweat on his face and he lifted one hand only to freeze when he saw an IV taped to the back. When the hell had that happened?

"Easy." Jules was suddenly there, pressing his hand back down.

Sam blinked at her as she grabbed a cloth and wiped his face for him. It felt nice, but it was so weird too.

Then a strange face was hovering over him on the other side and Sam frowned at him. Only to realize he was wearing a white lab coat. A doctor. Yep. Dr. Kerns was printed on his name tag. But seeing Sam staring at him, he introduced himself.

"I'm Dr. Kerns, Mr. Braddock. I've been taking care of you." Strong fingers pressed against his pulse. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." The reply was automatic and drew a few chuckles from his teammates.

"Standard Samtastic reply." That came from Spike.

The Doctor nodded, then looked solemnly at Sam. "You have a serious concussion, young man. And 3 cracked ribs with some internal and external bruising throughout your torso. You need to rest and heal. I had planned to release you in two days..."

Sam made a sound of protest, too stunned to even form proper words.

"Sam." It was Sarge speaking to him now. Waiting for him to look at him before continuing. Ever the good soldier, Sam obeyed. Sarge smiled at him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You will follow doctor's orders," Sarge stated. "We want you back soon and at one hundred percent."

"I...I can rest at home," Sam protested, remembering to whisper. For which his aching head thanked him.

"And you will," Dr. Kerns interjected, drawing Sam's attention back in his direction. "You'll be on leave for two weeks. Then you can go back to work on light duty."

Sam felt like he'd been slapped in the face. "Two weeks..." That would feel like forever. And it was crazy. He had a bump on the head and some sore ribs. In JTF2 he'd be back on duty in two days. Tops.

A soft hand touched his cheek and Sam turned his head, hiding a wince, to see Jules eyeing him with concern. He didn't like seeing her worry about him. But he did like the way she he cool touch seemed to ease the ache in his head. "Sam." Jules kept her tone soft. "You need to take it easy, okay? You're not a machine and no one expects you to be. Just do what you need to do to get better."

"I...I don't need to stay here to do that," Sam protested. He wanted to please her, he did, but he really did not want to stay here. Not even for another minute.

"It's just two days, Sam."

"If he behaves himself," Dr. Kerns interjected.

Sam resisted the urge to glare at the man. Instead he focused on Sarge. Sarge would help him. "I promise I'll go straight home and do nothing but sleep for two days. I'll be fine to come back after that."

Sarge looked sympathetic, but he was shaking his head. "No go, Sam. You stay here. You do as you're told, and when you're back to one hundred percent you'll be back to work."

"But..." Sam broke in, only to have Sarge cut him off.

"This is non negotiable, Sam." Sarge looked sorry, but he was firm. "Dr. Kerns is in charge and you do as you're told. Copy?"

Sam knew when he was defeated. "Copy," he mumbled, glaring at Sarge in betrayal.

Dr. Kerns was fussing with Sam's IV line. "I'm going to give you something for the pain and to help you relax, Sam. The next two days will pass by before you know it."

A warm lethargy was seeping through Sam and he knew he was being drugged into unconsciousness. He wasn't happy about it, but maybe it was for the best. Maybe he'd wake up and this would all have been a dream. His eyelids felt heavy but he held off the darkness for one more second. He wanted one last look at Jules's beautiful face.

"Sweet dreams, Sam," Jules whispered.

He let her voice be his lullaby to oblivion.

**THE END?**


End file.
